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thanksgiving poem

vieux vin à boire
l'obscurité
j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumière
je meurs
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
parmi les montagnes j'ai erré
elle a éclaté le vin féroce
le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trône d'or
peu de porte a été atteinte enfin
ont eu lui et I mais réuni
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon

 



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